


Freestyle SOUL

by Fether



Category: Jet Set Radio, Jet Set Radio Future
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fether/pseuds/Fether
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a city overrun by Rokkaku, the GG's have split up with nowhere to go, forced to comply with the rules set by an oligarchy. They crave to change what's been set in motion, but how are they to overcome it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spirit Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jet Set Radio/Future does not belong to me, and all chars are not mine, save for the original characters I created just for this piece of fiction. Grab some popcorn, your favorite beverage, and a comfy chair before you begin... because this is going to be one fucked up ride.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter 1 is revised as of 11/3/16. If you've read before this date, I strongly suggest rereading! I've added a lot more to both character development and world building. Thank you!

 

**Chapter 1: Spirit Within**

 

The rays from the morning sun crept in through the split curtains, shining brightly on the youth laying under the covers that were haphazardly strewn about in his sleep. It didn't take long for him to wake with a soft grunt, his arm rising to provide some sort of shade to attempt to peer out of the window, before he gave up and just let it drop to his side.

Despite the radio broadcasts from the higher-ranking police keeping him up last night, he wasn't really the type to return to slumber once he'd woken up – a nice cup of coffee would work wonders to make up for those precious few moments of lost sleep.

In the last three years, the Rokkaku had seized control of the state right underneath everyone's noses – that included the radio stations, businesses, the streets of the cities... and those who frequented those streets more often than regular people did.

The gangs of Tokyo-to.

It didn't come as a shock, at first, with the Rokkaku going after the gangs – they had been used to the fierce power struggle from them for quite some time.

No, what was most surprising was the sheer force and number of the actual Rokkaku – it was almost as if the entire task force had doubled or tripled overnight, leaving only two options for the gangs.

Disband and flee, or go to prison for defying the force of the Rokkaku.

Only a few were caught, while the others hid wherever they could escape – merging beautifully into what a 'normie' did. Normies was the slang that the gang members used for normal people, and they weren't very happy about the end result – the fact that they couldn't express their freedom in graffiti wherever they liked made some hateful, and lash out wherever they could... if they could get away with it.

Getting caught the first time was a slap on the wrist and a hefty fine, most often given to newbie kids who wanted to try going 'against the rules', urged to steer onto a safer path and not become a _rebellious soul_.

The second time getting caught was a night in jail, so you had a long time to actually think about your actions and how they affected those around you.

The third time got you beaten within an inch of your life left to spare, and you were left in the slammer until someone remembered you were there.

 _If_ they remembered.

There were a lot who weren't seen again – many of those who were caught after the third time.

What was truly in someone's soul could not be outwardly expressed – it was outlawed. You had to keep it inside, unable to show how you really felt, until it either faded away, or it burst inside of you, unable to be quenched any more.

There were a lot of sullen youths, nowadays.

The redhead sat up in his bed, muttering to himself as he reached up to run his fingers through his mussy hair. He glared at the morning sun again, figuring it was past eight as he groped around blindly for his glasses. It didn't take him long to find them and shove them on, a sigh escaping as he blinked everything into focus.

He was blind without his glasses, and he could swear that his vision only became worse each year.

It was the main reason why he used to have prescription goggles for skating – that, and for protection from bugs and wind, from the sheer speeds he used to get from blading down hills or sliding down rails. His soul raced at the memory, and he put both hands over his chest, willing his body and soul to calm down so that he didn't get too excited.

It was dangerous to feel such emotion, even behind closed doors.

Rising from the bed, the redhead stumbled towards the bathroom, weaving through his dirty clothes on the floor and not paying them any mind as he stripped off his shorts and stepped into the shower. A light flick of the wrist on the knob and hot water was pouring over him in an instant, a sigh of relief given as he rested his head on the wall, letting the water cascade over him.

“Three years,” He muttered to himself. “Three long, fucking years.” It still seemed like yesterday when the GG's had broken up, but he had to admit even to himself that after this long... getting the gang back together just wasn't happening.

Even the other gangs that had opposed them weren't anywhere to be found; Love Shockers, Immortals, Noise Tanks, Rapid 99... none of them seemed like they even existed in the first place with the way the Rokkaku had paraded themselves around in the city.

Even the tags were gone – painted over with plain white, and kept that way.

There was no graffiti anywhere. No one _dared_.

There wasn't even any _artwork_.

It was an unspoken rule that no artwork be allowed, lest someone _felt anything_.

Not only were the gangs affected, but so were other people – Captain Onishima and Captain Hayashi, especially. Despite Onishima's demotion and Hayashi replacing his job, both of them acted like they had been buddies their entire lives. Hayashi might have been a tad more insane than Onishima and had a few thumbtacks short of a jar, but he definitely got the job done where Onishima couldn't.

The redhead was sick of it. He was sick of the lies, of the pretending... and even through everything, the biggest inspiration, the one that played songs that resonated with different souls in different ways... Professor K... he was just _gone_.

The moment that the law enforcement had come down on the gangs of Tokyo-to, Professor K had just _vanished_ and left the radio channel open to nothing but static.

It had never sat well with him – it felt like Professor K had just abandoned everything he'd ever lived for.

Everything felt like a lie, nowadays.

“... the hell went wrong?” He muttered, raising his fist and slamming it into the wall, wincing at the dull pain that coursed through his arm. He'd been the one that was supposed to _watch_ the damn group, but he'd fucked up – he hadn't been there when they needed him the most.

Not only did he lose the gang, but... he lost his best friend, in the process.

His best friend... it sent fresh anger and sadness through him, and he couldn't help but think of all the times he'd been scouting with the other, toting after that green jacket...

He'd been young. Yoyo was his name, and despite being young, he definitely had talent, and fit into the gang like a puzzle piece that had been missing for quite some time. Not only could Yoyo get into places that no one else seemed to be able to manage, but he was also a damn good liar, and came up with the most intriguing plans...

Choking back tears, the redhead pinched the bridge of his nose and bit his tongue to stave them off.

Fuck everything.

He was never really that good at turning off his emotions. Not when Yoyo was concerned.

He didn't even realize he'd loved Yoyo until he'd lost it all.

“God damn it....”

Unable to feel the water anymore, he reached forward and turned the knob off, just... leaning against the wall as a shiver slid up his spine, the liquid dripping off of his naked body. He'd become numb to the scalding water, just like he'd become numb to everything else. Did it really matter anymore?

He had landed his current job on short notice, finding himself lucky due to how badly they'd needed an errand boy. He could have left at any time, but he found that he just didn't have the heart to leave.

Either that, or he lacked the ability to care anymore.

He wasn't happy, or sad – he just existed. His employer cut him a lot of slack, but he found that walking to work every day just made him more and more disinterested in the daily life around him – it didn't bring him the same amount of joy that freestyle skating had.

It wasn't the same high.

Often times when his mind would wander, he would look to the side and swear that an old rudie was there, waving a greeting... but that moment that he blinked, the image disappeared, leaving him stunned and silently cursing his mind for playing tricks on him.

His mind wandered a lot, nowadays.

Grabbing a towel, the youth rubbed his hair vigorously with it, pausing for a moment and uttering another curse. He'd forgotten to use shampoo, and at this point... it wasn't really worth showering again just to wash his hair.

Jumping as the phone rang, he slid a little before catching his balance, glowering at it and hoping that it wasn't his employer calling to ask him to come in on his day off.

Draping the towel around his bare shoulders, he walked carefully into the living room and picked up his phone, hitting the answer button to answer in a dull voice.

“Tobe.”

“I think you mean Beat... right?” The feminine voice was strangely familiar, but the redhead was instantly on alert, his body tensing in alarm. It was familiar... but he couldn't place it. Something inside of him told him to run – to _flee_ , but the rational part of him kept him grounded... kept him standing right where he was, still holding the phone.

Tobe could hear the case around it start to crack. _Calm down_ , he told himself. _Be rational..._

How could this person have found out about him? It made no sense – he was _certain_ he'd erased all traces of being tied up with the GG's, and that his record was wiped clean...

“I think you have the wrong number, yo.” The slip made him tense further – made him _wince_. Yoyo... it was just a sad reminder of what was, and what could have been, once upon a time.

Shaking horribly now, Tobe had to sit down on his bed, trying to keep his breathing even. Had the cops found him, after all these years, despite the clean record? Had they decided to find his location and jail him for something he did years ago? He cursed himself for being so stupid and not looking into the current laws to see if anything had changed, but he didn't even want to be NEAR the Rokkaku after the GG's had broken up. The further he was away from them, the better.

“No, I'm quite sure I have the right number.” Tobe's eyes widened, and he could hear _laughter_ , a light airy breath – just loud enough for him to catch over the receiver.

“This has got to be a fucking joke–” He was shaking. He was shaking so bad, he nearly dropped the phone –

“I know where your friend is~”

He froze.

“I d-don't have any friends.” His stutter was obvious, and there was a chill that ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Oh, what a pity. Would Yoyo say that about you?” He swore he could hear the voice _smirking_ , and it made him wish that he could just reach through the phone and shake the information out of her, to do _something_ –

“T-t-this isn't f-funny–”

“He'll be downtown. Be seein' ya, _yo_.” The line went dead, a soft _click_ of disconnection and then... nothing. Clenching the phone tightly in his hand, he threw it on his bed and stared at it for a long moment, unable to get his breathing under control. Various emotions ran through him – anger, fear, rage, confusion, _worry_ – and he reached up to tear off his glasses so he wouldn't have to look at it anymore, throwing them across the room.

Beat collapsed to the floor, clutching his head, bright blue eyes wide with terror. Terror... and realization.

There was no way it wasn't a trap. There was _no way_ that someone would just _have_ information like that and offer it for _free_ – not unless it was some way to get him out into the open.

Get his guard down, and get him _cornered_.

He'd always been a lone wolf... and now, he had no one to rely on but himself.

Letting his mind and emotions shut down, Beat closed his eyes... and buried his face in his hands, letting out a quiet, heart-wrenching sob .

It was a trap. He _knew_ it was a trap... but there was the small spark still within him, the small bit of hope that stood against everything else that was _screaming_ at him, telling him to _go for it_.

Rubbing his face, Beat stood and dressed himself in a rather mechanical way, still trying to steady his breathing, to not have a panic attack, to squash that hope because it was just fucking _impossible_...

And then he saw them, looking in the closet.

They were shoved to the back, leaning against each other in a haphazard manner, sitting there.

Waiting.

Still calling to his soul – begging to be used again.

_His blades._

It felt like he was almost in a trance. Beat didn't remember moving, but he'd blinked, and the next thing he knew he was sitting in front of the closet, putting both of the blades on his feet and reveling in the way they felt.

They still fit, even after three years.

Standing up and swaying a bit to get used to them again, he stepped carefully over to his dresser and dug under his clothing, pulling out his old goggles that he'd kept stashed away, hidden in case he ever had anyone over.

Of course, that had never even been a possibility, and he had to laugh – the lone wolf, inviting someone over to hang out. How lame did that sound?

Friends. The only friends he'd ever had were the GG's... and that was a memory long gone.

Staring at his goggles, he bent his head down and slid them onto his head, blinking at how everything came into view once more. His prescription hadn't changed much over the years, and he had to admit... it was nice, being able to see like he had contacts. Not only could Beat see straight forward, but with how the goggles were made... he could see out of the sides, too. Not by much, but with how the goggles were domed, it was a definite change in vision from what he normally wore.

The only thing he was missing was his headphones – but he had to admit to himself that he had to go without, just to be able to watch his own back and stay alert.

Gliding over to the window, Beat put his hands on the sill, staring out with a wistful glance, still debating on whether he should go, or stay.

It was a risk. But was he willing to take it?

Out on the streets, if Rokkaku shit went down... your blades were your life. Going without them meant denying yourself that freedom, denying your very soul that creativity that let you _live_ , denying yourself the ability to _glide freely on the very air itself_.

And nowadays, there were far, _far_ too many people who were dead inside... almost like walking corpses, resembling a herd of guided, domesticated cattle. Beat could recall even the _Immortals_ having more life than what was shown in recent events.

He'd almost succumbed entirely himself.

He shivered, grimacing. It had been close.

 _Too close_.

Opening the window and feeling the breeze on his face, Beat took a deep breath and slid out of the window, setting his skates on the sturdy pipes that were latched to the side of the wall. Despite their every attention to detail, the Rokkaku had managed to miss all the shortcuts and sliding tricks that the rudies had perfected grinding on for years.

Most of them were left intact.

Was it luck, or... was it _fate_?

Whichever it was, Beat didn't dwell on it, moving forward and leaving his window partly open in case he needed to make a quick return. Just a crack, so that if it rained, nothing would get too damaged.

Thinking over his actions once more, Beat figured, in all honesty, that the Rokkaku wouldn't be expecting something like this – they had gotten lazy as of late, considering that there was hardly anything to _chase_ anymore.

They were like roaming dogs with bones thrown to them every now and again – they may have had lay of the land, but they'd gotten content with their place, finding no need to really assert their authority more than they had to.

The perfect opportunity to slip by and head downtown unnoticed.

Beat's bright blue eyes shifted over the slow traffic below, and he felt his lazy smirk returning with ease. Gathering his strength and his courage, he pushed himself from the windowsill and slid down the pipes with muscle memory, gaining momentum until he reached the streets. He jumped off the end with practiced ease, getting back into the swing of things almost as if he'd practiced yesterday.

He'd never really forgotten though, had he?

Beat knew he was rusty, and his style wasn't as pretty as it had been before, but now he was _himself_ again. He was dancing to his own rhythm, his own _beat_... and he was soaring on air.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, all updates will be posted on my tumblr -- [feth](http://feth.tumblr.com)!
> 
> If you like what I do, [please consider donating](http://paypal.me/fether)~
> 
> Thank you for your support!


	2. Act of Expression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thoroughly enjoyed coming up with "real" names for all the characters. This one was based off of the song "Hello Allison". I thought it fit her rather well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is revised as of 11/7/16. If you've read before this date, I strongly suggest rereading! I've added a lot more to both character development and world building. Thank you!

 

**Chapter 2: Act of Expression**

 

It had been a long day of serving rude customers and their ilk, and if she had to be honest with herself, the blonde woman had to admit that she was sick and tired of it.

Thankfully, her shift was almost over – but for now, she stood in front of yet another entitled, well-dressed pair, her writing tablet in hand while she pressed the edge of the pen to the corner of her lips. It was a dull pain she was able to concentrate on, an attempt to not look disgruntled at they way they looked at the menu with loose fingers and upturned noses. Her name tag was on the left side of her waitress outfit, reading ALLISON in big, bold letters.

“Is this _all_ you have for your selection?” The female of the two stated, her voice disdainful. She glowered at the blonde waitress, her long fingernails clicking on the edge of the table, bordering on annoyance. “For how fancy you were with the others, you certainly aren't being helpful with _me_.” The waitress glanced up at the other tables – since it was nearly the end of the night, most of the parties had left, leaving the tables just needing to be cleared away before they could close.

The only one that was left was the larger group near the back, who had assured her that she could take her time, and weren't that concerned with being serviced fast. They were there to not only eat, but to chum around with each other, as well.

“Mary. Could you _please_ not cause a disruption in at least _one_ restaurant?” The man muttered to her, his voice low. “I've heard good things about this place from my coworkers. You don't need to act like _that_.” The woman snapped her head to him, her sullen look bordering on anger for just a moment.

She finally sighed in compliance and flipped the menu back up to stare at it.

Allison was glad she didn't have to answer, silently thanking the man.

“I'll have the Chateau Mouton Rothschild. 1982, if you have it.” Her voice still dripped disdain, and the woman was staring at her husband, lips pressed in a fine line.

“And you, sir?” The waitress asked, smiling as his eyes glanced up to her. She shifted slightly more out of habit than anything else, revealing a bit of her thigh in the short white dress she had to wear. Her smile was plastered on, forced there despite everything. Whether or not it had an effect on the man, he kept staring at her face, seeming to perk up a little.

“Water for me, but I'll order the Roast Peking Duck for both of us. Thank you.” Taking his wife's menu, he handed them to the waitress. She gave a slight nod of her head in dismissal.

“Your order will be ready shortly. Thank you, kind patrons.” Allison turned to walk to the back, glancing to the chef and sliding the ticket over for him to take. She knew there would be no other customers for the rest of the night – it was an hour until close, and besides that... the dinner rush had died long ago.

“Still holdin' dat smile, ah see.” The chef chuckled as he took the ticket from her, shaking the paper at her.

“That bitch is going to jump me, I swear.” Allison leaned against the counter, rubbing her forehead in exasperation.

“Ye'd make ah good actress,” He replied, giving her a toothless grin. At his expression, she couldn't help but snort, allowing her real smile to shine through.

“Thanks, but... it's not really my style. Faking smiles hurts, after a while.” She glanced back outside, pursing her lips. “There's one more group, and I think that'll be it for the night, Marcel.”

“Ya get 'em, Alli.” The cook gave her a thumbs up, turning to start on the ticket. Allison nodded in response, moving to the cellar to look for the wine that the couple had ordered.

Thinking back, Allison had to smile to herself. She'd introduced herself with her full name when she first started, and ever since then the chef and her had gotten along famously right from the get go. It seemed that she was the only one who understood him most of the time with his slight 'speech impediment' where he couldn't pronounce the words correctly like others did, but to her, that didn't make him any less intelligent – just different. Different people came from different walks of life, after all.

There were very few times where she had to ask him to clarify things, and often times she had to 'translate', but she didn't mind, and Marcel didn't seem to mind either.

It was a nice break from the normal.

Reaching out, Allison turned bottles as she looked, finally coming across the actual year that the woman had wanted, picking it up with gentle care. The bottle was _very_ expensive, but Allison didn't dwell on it much. If people wanted to spend more than her paycheck's worth on a bottle of wine...

Biting her lip, she shook her head and grabbed a bucket, filling it with ice and setting the wine gently inside. Two glasses were procured on her way to the table, and she carried them expertly over, setting one in front of each of them, that same happy smile back on her face once more.

Showing the woman and man the bottle label, she then opened it and began to pour, setting it back in the bucket of ice once the glasses were filled.

She didn't say a word – there was no point in it, as she was unwilling to make the lady even angrier lest she say something wrong. The best tips, after all, were provided by the best possible service, even if some customers deserved a good, swift kick in the rear.

Turning to walk to the last table for the night to take their orders, Allison saw them greet another latecomer, watching as he sat down. Her steps faltered, breath hitching as she caught herself.

Her entire world spun.

He had brown hair sticking out from under his cornflower blue hat, and a blue jumpsuit to match the hat. A grey jacket was worn over the jumpsuit, a tacky combination but one that made sense, considering the cold weather that was setting in for the night.

“You guys, this place is so _expensive_...” The out-of-place man stated, looking at the menu warily.

“Don't sweat it, man!” One of the other well-dressed gentlemen cried heartily, slapping him on the back in a familiar way. “We're buying tonight, because of your breakthrough.” The others laughed, making the under-dressed guy's face flush red in embarrassment. He took off his hat, his brown hair mussy as he tucked his hat into an inner pocket of his jacket.

“Are you gentlemen ready to order?” Allison asked, her voice airy. She felt lightheaded, and tried to hold it together, putting a hand on her hip to keep it from trembling. She could feel her smile faltering as she glanced at anywhere _but_ him.

“I really don't have time to eat, you guys.” The brown-haired man stated, not looking up from the menu. “I appreciate the gesture, but I need to go back to work...”

“You work too hard, Tab.” Another one voiced, and lifted a menu. “We'll have five of the dinner special, please! And lemonade all around. It's still in season, right?”

Allison blinked in surprise. It was a bit odd to her for esteemed gentlemen to be ordering _lemonade_ , but she wasn't going to begrudge them it.

“Yes. We still have fresh lemonade for today.” Smiling, she pulled out her tablet and wrote down what they'd ordered, eyes on the paper and avoiding the STARE that Tab was now giving her.

 _It was him it was him it was HIM._ After all this time... he was here. But why HERE? Why NOW?

“She's pretty, isn't she?” Voiced a third, and there was a chorus of laughter all around the table as Allison walked back to the kitchen. Tab ducked his head further, making a soft noise as he turned away, rubbing his face.

“You guys...”

Delivering the ticket to Marcel, she gave a thumbs up as she headed towards the front, turning off the neon sign that stated they were open.

“HEY! This is NOT what I ordered! Your cheap ass knockoff doesn't taste a DAMN bit like the real thing!” Turning to regard the woman from the first table, Allison could feel her lips twist in disapproval as she approached them. She was very drunk, and Allison eyed the bottle on the table, nearly doing a double take. Half of it was GONE.

How had she downed it that fast!? Had she no taste for wine whatsoever...?

_Lush._

Her poor husband was trying in vain to get her to sit back down without a commotion, but wasn't successful in the slightest. The only thing he achieved in getting was a slap to the face as the woman shoved him away, making him sit back down with a sullen, defeated look, staring away from her, abashed and embarrassed beyond belief.

Allison's heart went out to him, but at this point... she couldn't really do anything that would help him.

“I think you need to leave,” Allison started to say, and the customer became enraged further, drawing back her hand and _throwing_ the wine bottle at her.

Years of skating and dodging Rokkaku were ingrained into her, and she jerked to the side, nearly falling as the wine bottle exploded at her feet, sending shards of glass over her white shoes and ankles.

If she hadn't moved, it would have been far, far worse.

She kept calm, though there was anger in her eyes despite her cool demeanor.

“Perhaps you would like a different variety?” She offered, biting her lip hard enough that she could feel her teeth cutting through the skin. It was all she could do to keep from launching herself at the customer. “I assure you, our vendors are legitimate. Even before you started drinking it, _I had shown you the label._ ” She walked towards the woman, wincing as she felt some glass shards grazing on her skin. It seemed some had gotten inside of her socks. _Damn it._

“You _bitch_. You think I care about your fucking _vendor_? I know what wine is, and this is _not_ what I ordered!” Snarling, the woman lunged forward to grab Allison, her fingers wrapping around part of her dress and ripping it away –

Strong black hands grabbed the woman's hand and forced it back, earning a shriek from the drunken customer.

“You don't hurt Miss Alli. 'M'I understood?” Marcel had come out from the back, and was standing in front of Allison, his grip tight as he glanced to the man. “Now, both of y'ull will pay fer th' damages, and th' food, and you won't cause any more tru'bl, y'hear?”

Allison stared, stunned at Marcel's action as she held up her dress, frowning at the rip. He was putting himself in danger, and was sacrificing his business, his company, just to protect _her_...

She jumped slightly when she felt a jacket fall onto her shoulders, covering her modestly. Glancing up, she saw his face – her knight in shining armor.

The man with the cornflower blue hat.

“I'm never coming back here again!”

“Mary.” The man stood up, slamming his hands on the table as he glared at the woman. “That's ENOUGH. Frankly, I'm very tired of your attitude. All I wanted... all I _fucking_ wanted was one night. One damn night without you throwing a fit _just to get free food_.” His gaze was cold, and he shook his head, pulling out his wallet.

“I apologize on her behalf... because she doesn't know better.” His look clearly said that she did, but... it was easier to get dogs to fly.

“Yer more'n welcome t'come back.” Marcel stated to the man. He finally let go of the woman, and she stumbled out the door, still haughty. “... but she? Is not.”

The man nodded in acquiesce, setting the money on the table as he gathered his belongings, sighing to leave.

“Wait,” Marcel stated. “I'll get yer food to go.” Surprise showed on the man's features, but he nodded, stopping by the doorway to wait.

Allison made no movement, slouching as she just enjoyed the feel of Tab's jacket over her shoulders.

It was almost like old times.

“You can keep the change, Marcel. I'm sorry. I thought...” Blinking in surprise, Allison turned to look at the chef, tilting her head. Did they... _know_ each other?

“She's gotten worse, Jack.” Marcel stated sadly, picking up one of the hundred dollar bills left on the table, and holding it out for him.

“No.” Jack smiled. “No change. Not this time.” Bowing his head, Marcel turned to Allison and held it out for her.

“Go get th'broom, sweetheart. Y'ull can clean, an'en go home. 'k?” Beaming that toothless smile of his, Allison nodded and walked to the closet, pulling out the broom and dustpan, wincing as she walked. She could still feel the glass shards in her socks, and figured that she'd take care of them when she got home. Hopefully... the damage wouldn't be extensive. It was just a minor annoyance, for now.

“May I walk you home?” Tab asked her, his voice soft as he stared at her with comforting eyes. She couldn't help but blush at his question, and turn away when his coworkers hooted at him.

“Are you gonna get her number!? Wow!” Came one cry, and Tab grimaced, putting a hand on his face.

“Ugh...”

“I'd like that,” Allison responded, finally scooping up the rest of the glass into the dustpan, depositing it into the trash. She returned the utensils to the closet and took off her apron, waving to Marcel before heading out the door, Tab following close behind.

Each step made her wince, and she silently cursed herself for her choice in high heels – but how could she have known that _glass_ was going to be thrown at her?

Tab was silent for a while until they were a few yards from the restaurant. The blonde closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a breath of cold air before her world seemed to spin, her body being lifted up –

“You're wincing. Glass got into your clothing, didn't it?” Her breath caught, and she glanced up to see Tab's serious expression, his chocolate eyes staring into her own.

“... you never do miss anything, do you?”

“No.” He smiled sadly. “Except for... recent events.” Glancing to the side, Tab let out a long sigh as he shook his head, as if it would shake away the memory with ease.

“Left, then right. At the apartments just up here.” Usually, she didn't like things like this, but arguing with Tab was a lost cause – and he was right, after all. The more walking she did like this, the more difficult the glass would be to get out.

Besides... she had to admit that despite her feelings overwhelming her, she was _enjoying_ this small moment in time.

She wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

It didn't take long to reach her apartment, and she managed to fish out her apartment key while still being carried, handing it over for him to unlock the door and carry her inside.

The apartment was sparse – it looked hardly lived in, but there were a few items that definitely made it seem like home. Despite it being a small apartment, it was nicely decorated – blue curtains hung over the window in the living room, and a tan foldout chair sat against the wall facing a medium-sized box that he instantly recognized as a television.

Nowadays, there were nothing but flat-screens, making the old boxy televisions obsolete and basically free.

In other words, _worthless_.

Setting her down on the chair, he moved to find the bathroom, his eyes glancing over the kitchen. On the stove was a well-loved teapot with the handle broken down the middle, a toaster with one of the tabs missing, and a knife set with chipped handles.

The fridge itself was peeling, making the outer layer look like it had been through a war.

All of them, however, had one thing in common – they all looked worn down with nothing but love.

“Tweezers?” He asked, walking into the bathroom.

“Medicine cabinet in the wall,” Came her answer, and he breathed in, opening it.

It was very, very sparse. There wasn't even a container of ibuprofen, nor was there any bandages. He did find a washcloth near the sink, and doused it in hot water before wringing it out, setting them both on the counter.

“It'd probably be better if you were in the bath tub for this, so we could just rinse the glass down the drain and not worry about it sticking in your carpet.”

Allison had to admit that he was right, and stood up from the chair, wincing with every step she took to the bathroom. She glanced at him briefly before sitting on the edge of the tub, slowly taking off her heels and socks, tossing her socks into the nearby garbage can. Tab reached over and turned on the water, making sure it was hot before filling the bottom just enough for her to dip her feet into, his gaze one of concern. It was hard to tell what was on his mind up until he spoke.

“I won't stay for long.” Tab finally stated, pausing for a moment. “I have work in the morning–”

“I'd like it if you did–” Allison replied at the same time, her face feeling hot as she realized what he'd said. “... oh--”

“Gum–”

“Cornflower–”

Both of them stopped, their faces red as they smiled nervously, and Tab reached forward with the washcloth, being very gentle as he lifted a foot and dabbed all around the skin, making sure there was no glass that was trying to dig its way in.

“... so... did you ever pursue being a doctor?” Allison found herself asking, glancing to the side. She felt like an idiot; what kind of question was _that_?

“No.” He replied, his voice laced with sadness. “I didn't... really have a chance. Sine the Rokkaku kind of took over everything...”

“... yeah.” Allison winced, jerking involuntarily as she hissed. “There's one–”

“I see it.” Tab took the tweezers and pulled out bits of glass here and there, both of them becoming silent as he worked. He'd always been good with taking care of wounds and minor irritations, and Allison was surprised to find that he hadn't pursued it.

Not that surprised, however.

The Rokkaku had fucked up a lot of things.

“Thank you,” She finally said, drawing in a long breath before letting it out, feeling fresh water run over her feet. He pulled the drain and let the liquid flow out of the tub, grabbing a second dry washcloth before beginning to rub over her ankles and toes to make sure everything was properly dry.

“It's no big deal, if you get to it right away.” Tab murmured with sincerity, and the woman had to laugh – he was always so clinical when he was dealing with things like this. “I really should go, though.”

“Please visit again, Tab.” Allison said, eyes bright.

“... I will.” Standing up, Tab reached out and lifted her hand, kissing the back of it before he walked out and shut the door behind him.

Allison reached forward and turned off the water, following after and locking the door, watching through the window as he walked down the street.

She didn't realize until an hour had passed that he'd forgotten his jacket, along with the hat of cornflower blue.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, all updates will be posted on my tumblr -- [feth](http://feth.tumblr.com)!
> 
> If you like what I do, [please consider donating](http://paypal.me/fether)~
> 
> Thank you for your support!


	3. Dissent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This still remains my favorite chapter.
> 
> Chapter 3 is revised as of 11/14/16. If you've read before this date, I strongly suggest rereading! I've added a lot more to both character development and world building. Thank you!

**Chapter 3: Dissent**

 

“OH YEAH!” The shrill, male voice that rang out could barely be heard over the squealing car tires on the paved street, the smell of burned rubber, gas, and oil permeating throughout the air. A group of young men and women hunkered loosely around fancy cars, smirking and laughing among themselves with ease as they watched other race cards skid around in a closed-circuit loop.

To those that were 'in the know', their current location was known as the Underground, where the cops had rarely found anyone – the location had enough scouts and spies to warn them when the Rokkaku were coming, and the majority had always gotten away with time to spare. Very few were ever caught, thanks to the ones on the lookout.

Standing distant from the group was a long haired redhead, his fingers running through the strands as he pulled his hair back into a ponytail, grimacing slightly at its length. It was getting far too long for his liking, but he'd always gotten compliments on it, so was it really worth it, to get it cut?

He had a good build, and knew it by the way everyone looked at him – from both men _and_ women. He wasn't one to flaunt it – he had a good reputation and mindset as a fair teammate, and was known as a definite daredevil, taking risks in races that others would balk at.

Watching the current cars drive around the track with a wide smirk that others have called 'chaotic yearning', his adrenaline and soul pumped at each roundabout turn the speedy vehicles took. It wasn't long before a red race car with a yellow stripe took the lead by inches, the race clearly at an end by the way the cars slowed after crossing a certain point – a seemingly invisible finish line.

The vehicles thrummed to a complete stop, the drivers turning off their cars and sliding out in similar fashions, the crowd cheering for them. In this race, there were winners and losers, but there were no _losers_.

Here, they were a freestyle gang. All rudies at heart, with no place to call home.

The winner of the race approached the redhead and sneered in his face, haughty and proud. His skin was dark, his fluffy dyed green hair pulled back into a ponytail much like the redhead's, and he wore a large green sweater with katakana words that spelled out 'YO YO' on the front.

“YO. Try beating _that_ , Spence.”

It was apparent that he was a young teen, still short and looking like he hadn't gotten his growth spurt yet. Despite his defiant and proud attitude, there was a look of respect in his eyes, as if he was looking for some sort of approval from the older male.

He raised his hand and made a clicking sound as he pointed it at the other, a kind of 'fingerpistol' reaction as if to say he was _all that_.

The redhead only smiled, not paying any attention to the muttering among the crowd, hearing their talk dying down almost instantly as they waited on baited breaths for his response. Everyone knew he was the current King of the Track, and after a year of proving himself, he'd _earned_ that title, as well as the highest speed that no one had ever beaten.

That was two years ago.

And today... was the first day that the kid had actually challenged him out in the open.

“It's Spencer, _newbie_.” He tilted his head, adjusting his teal jacket in a nonchalant manner. There was pride in his eyes as he stared at the black teenager, a kind of fondness there as he reached forward and tilted the other's head up. “Ku. Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice was quiet, low enough for only the two of them to hear.

A shiver ran down Ku's spine as he stared up at Spencer, a doubtful expression creeping into his face. Was he ready for the challenge? That serious look in Spencer's eyes...

The moment was far too short lived.

Sirens broke the tense air, wailing louder the closer they got. The crowd scattered, and Spencer's hand dropped, his arm reaching out to slide around Ku and pull him close.

Terror showed on Ku's face as he glanced to Spencer, his body shaking. The cops had never gotten this close, and the lookouts – why hadn't they sounded the alarm?

“Don't worry, kiddo. They know I'm the leader, so they'll follow me. You just make sure that you don't get caught. I'll meet you at home.” Turning his head to regard Ku fondly, he winked, letting his arm drop before he ran towards the red and yellow striped car.

Sliding in, Spencer lifted his hands and exhaled, smoothing his fingers out onto the leather of the wheel. His agile fingers flitted to the ignition key, turning it on to hear the wonderful purr of his vehicle roar to life, listening to the sound of his baby that he so treasured.

He wished there was time to enjoy it.

Idly, he wished he could take Ku with him, just so he could keep an eye on him, but there was no way he could risk it – there was still a chance of him getting caught, and the kid had a good head on his shoulders. He'd be better off in the hands of Fate.

Spencer silently wished a prayer to whatever deity was listening.

“Rokkaku everywhere.” He breathed, glancing through the windows and at every mirror, revving up the engine before peeling out, tires burning against the pavement.

“Don't test me, yo. Don't make me settle this score...” Spencer's eyes darkened as he put his entire weight on the gas pedal, racing out of an opening they hadn't blocked off yet, a low hiss escaping through clenched teeth. He'd been an orphan for a very long time, but unlike most other kids... he still _remembered_.

He remembered the Rokkaku standing over his dead parents' bodies, holding the weapon that they'd used to murder them.

He remembered them finding him hiding in a closet, calling out to him, trying to prevent him from running away. He remembered so many things... running from sirens, hearing dogs chasing him with their barks and paws slamming against pavement, his tired legs leading him into a broken down bunker and nearly having a heart attack when teenagers found him –

Spencer winced, slamming the palm of his hand on the steering wheel as he let out a strangled scream of rage. It wasn't often that he let his anger slip, but when it did, his friends noticed when he started to add the _yo_ pronunciation in his sentences.

It was a habit that he'd never been able to break. Hence his nickname: _Yoyo_.

The GG's had become a family to him. They didn't replace the one he'd lost, because you could never replace something like that.

But they were still family.

He missed that. And thanks to the Rokkaku... not just one family had been taken from him, no... _two_ families had been taken away from him.

Pressing the clutch down and shifting gears, Spencer narrowed his eyes and focused straight ahead, his anger only fueling his single-minded need for speed. Other Rokkaku cars and motorcycles attempted to tailgate and slam the sides of his car, but it wasn't long before they fell behind, unable to keep up with his speed.

His body leaned as he turned corners, shifting gears once again to maneuver around the multiple forces of the Rokkaku, a low chuckle rising from his throat. This was the closest he'd ever been with them, and the thrill of the chase sunk down into the pit of his stomach, making him absolutely giddy.

It was a definite kind of high that he hadn't felt before.

About to thank Fate for her good graces, Yoyo's eyes widened as he moved to slam on the breaks, the wheel jerking to the side as he tried to avoid an obstacle that came out of nowhere.

A body rolled off of his hood, and Spencer could have sworn he saw a flash of _skates_. It was astounding – who wore skates out in the open nowadays? Not only was it illegal, but it was a certifiable _death wish_ to be seen out on the streets with them.

“Fuck fuck _fuck_ ,” He hissed, stopping the car and forgetting to hit the clutch. The car sputtered and died, but he was too worried about whoever he'd hit, panic sinking in and overwhelming the giddy feeling he'd had earlier. The door was quickly opened as he rushed to look at the kid that had fallen.

Yoyo just felt sick, now. That wormy feeling in his stomach sunk like a stone in water, and as he looked at the crumpled body, he felt like throwing up.

“Please be okay, _god_ –” He'd never actually _hit_ anyone before, and even his mind spinning thoughts of revenge... the actual act of _doing_ made him absolutely nauseous.

The kid was knocked completely out, his buggy glasses cracked and almost unrecognizable, blood slowly seeping from the other's nose. _Fuck_. He looked pretty bad.

Glancing up at the damage to his car, Spencer winced. Cars could be fixed, but humans were another matter entirely. He knelt down and felt the other's pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt that there was still a heartbeat.

The familiarity of the boy struck him as odd, and he glanced over at his clothing, not seeing anything that stuck out... except for the broken glasses.

The same bug-eyed glasses from his past, taunting from a redheaded boy...

Yoyo's breath caught in his throat. Was this... _Beat?_

“Yoyo?” The other's eyes fluttered open as he tried to focus, his eyes fixated on Yoyo. The kid was clearly out of it, shaking and reaching up for him with an unsteady hand. Yoyo grasped the hand tightly, looking around him as he saw that they were being surrounded.

“What were you _thinking_ , yo?” There was no way this could be Beat, but all of the evidence had spelled otherwise. Beat had never been this _stupid_ before. “Why'd you blade in front of open traffic, yo? _Stupid idiot_.” There was no answer from the other redhead, just a whimper of pain that sent a pang of guilt through Yoyo.

“It's Spencer, kid.” He finally replied, only getting a glazed, confused look from the other. Sighing, Yoyo moved to pick him up carefully, turning to run, but only finding more cars and motorcycles blocking every entrance he'd turned to.

“ _For fuck's sake._ ” Yoyo cried, exasperated. Moving over to his car, he jerked the keys out of the ignition and shut the door, locking it and hearing the audible beep that the car alarm was set. He still loved his car, but there was no way they were getting out of this predicament in it – not now, at least.

“Sorry for the pain, yo, but we don't have a choice anymore.” Glancing up, he eyed the rails and pathways above him, contemplating. “We're in quite a predicament, and I _know_ I didn't have _that_ many cops after _my_ ass, yo.”

“They.... they just c-caught me off guard--” Came the redhead's reply, his hand coming up to hold his head as his vision swam. “T-t-that's all--” He repeated the words, stuttering as he trembled. It was painfully obvious now that the kid was delirious, or at least suffering from shock.

“What's your name?” Yoyo asked, knowing full well the answer he was going to receive, but wanting to keep him awake and attentive.

“Aran. Tobe Aran.” He winced, hissing. “A-also... B-b-beat. B-but... I... I-I haven't gone by that in y-years...”

“Good. Stay with me, kid.” He felt another pang of guilt as Beat stared at him with a lost expression, almost akin to a puppy dog.

Swearing silently at himself, he tensed, finally noticing that the Rokkaku weren't moving. _Why?_ It wasn't like them at all. He'd seen from former displays that kids were taken instantly, but these guys... they acted like they were _waiting_ for something.

And then a few of them parted, a new figure coming into view.

“ _Hayashi,”_ Yoyo hissed, his expression dark as he took a few steps back.

“Well, well. The infamous leader of the drag racing gang. _Spencer_. It's been a while. How nice of you to _stop by_.” Hayashi let a slow grin creep over his face as he pointed a gun at him. “Didn't think I'd run into you again so soon. Are you losing your touch?” His eyes slowly slid over to stare at Beat in his arms, an eyebrow rising in curiosity.

“Are you taking in strays again? Ah, no matter... it seems that your people are less loyal than mine are. They scatter at the first sign of trouble.”

“At least mine listen to reason,” Yoyo snorted. “They know to leave when it's a fight they can't win.”

“Hmph. If you say so...” Hayashi's arm moved towards Beat, the gun pointing at him instead of Yoyo.

“Yo.” He got Hayashi's attention, the white-haired man sneering at him. “You want a chase, yo? Is that what _excites_ you?”

Letting out a breath, Hayashi _smiled_ , his expression almost deranged. “... heh. Okay... run, then, my little ducklings. _Run, run, run away_!” He _laughed_ now, his grin matching the devil's as he earned perplexed looks from the other Rokkaku. They knew better than to question him – he was insane, after all... and no one understood just how his mind worked.

None of them wanted to know, either.

Clutching Beat to his chest, Yoyo moved to shove past Rokkaku, knowing where exactly to go – he knew how the streets worked around here, and where the shortcuts were. “Man's crazy,” Yoyo muttered, eyes darting from side to side as he pushed his glasses up further on his nose.

“Hnngh...” Came Beat's injured moan, and Yoyo grimaced as he moved to put a hand over the other's mouth, darting behind a large dumpster as he heard footsteps rounding the corner behind him.

“Stupid, _stupid_! I wanted a CHASE, not for them to _disappear_!” The sound of someone being hit was heard very clearly, and the stomping of feet.

Hayashi was throwing a temper tantrum, right on cue.

“SPREAD OUT! Search EVERYTHING! Now, now, NOW!” Footsteps were heard leaving, and Yoyo peered out from behind the dumpster, seeing the back of Hayashi. Shit. He was the only one who hadn't left –

Turning his head, Hayashi spotted Yoyo and twisted, his hand raising as the gun fired. Yoyo's head jerked back, and he shivered as he lifted one of his feet, pressing a button on the side before repeating it for the other shoe. They shifted into custom-made skates, the wheels and skates mainly black, layered with yellow and green stripes.

“Gotcha, my pretty pets~” Sung Hayashi as he ran to the opening in front of Yoyo, aiming his gun again. Yoyo stood with Beat in his arms, crouching before moving forward at a momentum he hadn't had before – a boost right from the get go, used to knock over the Head Rokkaku.

He didn't wait for Hayashi to get up again – he used the momentum to find a pipe that led upwards, leaping upon it with an agile grace he never lost, moving up to the rooftop –

A shot fired out, and pain laced through Yoyo's shoulder. He jerked, nearly dropping Beat and losing his momentum, but sheer luck got him onto the roof, stepping off and rolling out of sight of the cursing Rokkaku below.

They were safe, for the moment.

Yoyo crouched and held his shoulder, wincing as pain laced with numbness ran through his arm, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He'd never gotten shot before – not like this. This was a new feeling.

The Rokkaku weren't using rubber bullets anymore.

These bullets were _different_.

Unbidden tears ran down Yoyo's face as he tried to get it together, attempting to get to his feet a few times before he managed to pick Beat up again, cradling him to his chest. His own vision swam now, and he realized with some relief that Beat had passed out – thank god, he thought, that he was unconscious for the entirety of Hayashi's insanity.

Yoyo didn't remember getting home, but the next thing he knew, he was leaning against a wall, holding his shoulder as Ku's face slid into view.

“What the _hell_ were you shot with?” Ku asked, and Yoyo felt a chill run over his body. He hadn't realized until now that he was naked from the waist up, and red oozed slowly down his arm through a bandage that was plastered onto his shoulder. When had Ku patched him up...?

“E-easy, yo...”

“Like hell. I'm taking care of you... you're the only family I got.” Ku moved forward, lifting a bottle of peroxide and dousing a clean washcloth with it, taking the bandage off gently. It was all Yoyo could do to keep from screaming, clenching his teeth together tightly as he stretched his legs out slowly to deal with the pain.

“K-ku–”

“Almost got it, Spencer.” Ku murmured softly, lifting the patch off entirely and sliding tongs in. “This is going to hurt, but the bullet's still in there. I need to get it out. Okay?” All Yoyo could do was nod briefly in reply as he felt the cold metal against his flesh, the coldness of it making him that much more aware of how _deep_ the bullet actually _was_.

It felt like an eternity that Ku was looking for the bullet, but when he finally found it, it took him a few tries to actually get a proper hold of it to pull it out. Fresh blood poured out of the wound, and Ku dropped the bullet and tongs as he pressed the peroxide-soaked cloth against Yoyo's shoulder, jumping slightly as his fist hit the wall behind him.

“ _Fuck_ that hurts.” More tears slid down Yoyo's face, uncontrolled due to the massive amount of pain he was in.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Ku replied, moving to sit on Yoyo's lap as he began to dress the wound again. Yoyo lowered his head onto Ku's shoulder, shaking as he tried to remain still for the younger kid, his eyes closing. This whole thing was so, so tiring... and he felt himself drifting off until a sharp pang coursed through his shoulder again, his head snapping up as he took a sharp intake of breath.

“Don't sleep yet.” Ku muttered, yawning. “I'm... I'm still workin'.”

“It's... I think it's good now, Ku.” Yoyo winced as he moved his arms around Ku, holding him close in a tight hug. Ku blinked for a moment, startled before he returned the hug, careful not to jostle the newly bandaged shoulder.

“Adrenaline got you here. You were _completely_ out of it. Kind of like you were on autopilot. It was... weird.” Ku admitted, huffing as he buried his head into Yoyo's chest.

“It's the first time I've been shot. With... something other than rubber.” Ku turned his head and stared at the bullet on the ground, reaching out and turning it over, Yoyo's blood smudging onto his fingertips. He made a face, wiping off the blood on Yoyo's shorts.

“... it's metal.” Ku murmured softly. “I've... never seen anything like that made of... metal before.” The mere idea of it frightened Ku, and he suddenly wanted the thing far, far away from him as possible.

“Did... did I bring another here?” Yoyo asked softly, growing tired again.

“He's in your bed.”

“... god damn it.” Yoyo's head turned to the side, and he grimaced.

“Hey, if you wanna kick him out, be my guest. I just figured it would be more comfortable for him than mine.”

“That, and you wanted your own bed.”

“Guilty.”

Sighing, Yoyo finally pushed Ku gently off of his lap, moving to get up. Ku quickly got to his feet and helped Yoyo stand up on his good side, careful to go slow so he wouldn't jostle the wound open again.

“To be fair, he doesn't take up much room if you want to just... sleep on the other side of your bed. Your mattress is huge anyway.” Ku stated, blinking owlishly at Yoyo before grinning and looking away. Rolling his eyes, Yoyo hobbled to his bedroom and looked at the curled up form of Beat.

“... yeah. I'll do that.” Moving over to his bed, he sat on the edge and laid on his back, grunting softly. “I'll be fine, Ku. You can go sleep.”

“... 'k, yo. See ya in the morning.” Yawning again, Ku left the room entirely, the soft footsteps retreating to his own bedroom.

After staring at Beat, Yoyo sighed, turning his attention to the ceiling. It looked like Ku had taken care of Beat as well – there was an ice pack near his head, and one near his back, as well. They were nearly melted, which made Yoyo wonder – how long had they both been out? His head rested on his pillow as he tried to relax and shove away his thoughts, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his shoulder.

He didn't remember the moment he fell asleep. Yoyo remembered staring at the ceiling tiles until he was too tired to think straight any more, his body relaxing until the pain just became numb enough for him to ignore.

Yoyo hoped... Beat would be okay in the morning...

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, all updates will be posted on my tumblr -- [feth](http://feth.tumblr.com)!
> 
> If you like what I do, [please consider donating](http://paypal.me/fether)~
> 
> Thank you for your support!


	4. Compunction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.
> 
> Chapter 4 is revised as of 11/27/16. If you've read before this date, I strongly suggest rereading! I've added a lot more to both character development and world building. Thank you!

**Chapter 4: Compunction**

 

Corn knew he'd never have another routine day again. Not after the night he'd had with Gum, and finding her again in a stroke of luck, at a restaurant he'd been whisked to on a whim...

He'd found out the next day from his coworkers that the restaurant owner had apologized profusely for the interruption of their dinner, and offered them a discount – to which they'd refused. They'd insisted to give Gum a tip as well, saying that she handled the situation better than _they_ would have.

It was moments like that, that made him proud to have the coworkers he did.

The company he worked for was very well known – the Yiang company. It was a curious name, to be sure, but Corn wasn't one to question it. He was just glad to have an actual job in this day and age... and he knew how hard it was to find one. Especially as a former Rudie.

He was considered a prodigy in the company, having original plans for robots, the originals he'd assembled himself by hand. It had taken painstakingly long hours, but when he was finished with the first models, everyone was pleased with the amount of work that was put into each one.

They were similar, but he'd had an artist's touch to make each one different, even if it was slight – not only by personality, but by slight design differences, as well.

Sitting at his computer, Corn had his head bent over as he stared off at nothing in particular, a frown etched on his face. There was a tiny little face bouncing around on the desktop screen in a rather excited manner, eyes glancing to the side where a husk of a robot body was, then it glanced back to Corn.

“Hey! Aren't you done yet!?” It exclaimed, and the face grew larger until it filled the whole screen, a growling sound emanating from the speakers.

“Not yet.” Snapping back to reality from the sound of the voice, Corn sighed as he raised his arms to stretch, glaring slightly at the computer screen. The face grew small, shivering just to emote, before it managed to look put out.

“What's that word you people say... penny for your thoughts? Right?” It muttered, flipping upside down and watching Corn as it continued to drift across the screen. It received no answer right away, and was about to comment again, but halted at seeing the expression on Corn's face.

Usually by this time, Corn had a sharp remark to his snide attitude, but this look... this look was _familiar_.

“I saw Gum a few days ago.” Corn finally breathed out, and the face on the screen _stopped_ , enlarging to overtake the entirety of the screen.

“You saw Gum and you didn't _tell_ me!?”

“Ro-boy...” Corn put his hand on his face, moving it to rub his forehead in exasperation.

“No. _No_. You don't get to make up excuses–” The words shifted into obscenities, and Corn rolled his eyes, having to just listen for Ro-boy's banter to end so he could continue talking. Despite their differences, Corn _did_ enjoy Ro-boy's company, and he knew that he was the only one that cared enough to keep him running 24/7, even if he wasn't there all the time.

Corn had to admit to himself that he missed Ro-boy having his own body – but with the new robots he'd built, Ro-boy was considered obsolete... and very easy to damage. It worried Corn – which was the main reason he'd uploaded Ro-boy's consciousness onto the computer.

The old body was kept, but it just needed to be _upgraded_ – and when Corn was finally satisfied with the end product, he'd re-download Ro-boy's original consciousness back to his body... and most likely keep a backup, as well. Just to be safe.

Corn's mind wandered back to the good ol' days, when he was leader of the GG's. In his opinion, he was a terrible leader, despite the others looking up to him. And now... how would they react now?

Three years had passed, and he'd thought about the GG's off and on, but he'd been filling his work quota more to try to make up for the indescribable loneliness he felt, in an attempt to not have to think about it.

The GG's were like a family to him. They were all close knit, and had gotten to trust each other over the years... only to have it all ripped away by the Rokkaku.

What had gone wrong?

Thinking about it made him sad, so Corn succumbed to a clockwork routine. Day in and day out he worked the exact same shift, and almost the exact same work, changing it up every now and again so he didn't let his mind wander over monotonous work.

The only thing that he'd let himself be curious about were the King chips – chips that he installed into the robots after he built them. No one told them what they did, other than that it gave them the programming they needed before they were whisked off to their proper 'jobs'.

He had no idea what happened to his originals – they'd been used briefly, and two years ago they just went... missing. No leads, no evidence left behind, _nothing_.

It was almost as if they disappeared into thin air.

Once more, Corn's thoughts were interrupted, slashed by Ro-boy's high-pitched screech.

“HEY! Someone's trying to hack into me! Gckk–” Ro-boy's face went out with a flicker, and two dark eyes appeared on the screen, staring right at Corn.

Corn felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

“Long time no see, great leader.” Came the distorted feminine voice, eyes unblinking. Corn swallowed, shoulders setting.

“Who are you?”

“I think the question you need to ask is, where are your friends? Aren't you worried about them?”

“I don't understand.”

“Funny. That's the first time I've heard something like that from you. You're usually quicker on the uptake than that...”

“Who ARE you!?” Corn was getting frustrated now, reaching up to grasp his hat, but found that he didn't have it – that's right. He'd left it at Gum's...

Shit.

Old habits died hard.

“You should go check. They got gravely injured, after all. You always were good with saving lives... one way or another.”

Standing up, Corn paced the room, fingers twitching as his mind raced. The only friend he'd been in contact with was Gum...

 _Shit_.

Not bothering to close the laptop, he raced out of the office, only gathering enough time to grab his wallet, backpack, and keys, pocketing them in one hasty motion.

The eyes on the laptop were shoved to the side once Corn was gone, Ro-boy's face growling at them in an aggressive manner. “What d'ya think yer tryin' ta pull, huh!? Worryin' Corn like that. I'M the only one allowed ta worry him like that!”

“Sorry, friend.” The eyes stated calmly, blinking before starting to fade. “I need to get them back together.”

“Hey. HEY! Wait, you can't just fade out in an ominous manner, like some goody two shoes trying to progress a plot! HEY, GET BACK HERE–”

The eyes had disappeared completely, leaving a very unhappy Ro-boy to bounce alone on the desktop, mulling over what had just happened.

Something about the way the voice spoke was very familiar...

 

Running past the secretary, he waved a hand, nearly out of breath. How long had it been since he'd ran? “Clocking out for the day–”

“O-okay,” The secretary stated, looking confused, pulling out a clipboard. “You just got a shipment in–” She stopped abruptly when she saw his blank stare, misinterpreting it completely. “I-I mean, I can just hold it for you here...”

“Thanks. You... you're doing fine. I'm sorry.” He turned to exit out the doors, hearing the sigh of relief from her as he rubbed his face. Did he really look that bad?

He passed by the security guard near the doors as he gave a slight nod, a slight bit of animosity there, but no more than that. This particular guard was young, having shot up in the ranks rather quickly only to have ended up taking an injury to the knee due to a random gang member, impairing his ability to walk well. There was also rumor that this particular guard was going to be one of the Golden Rhinos, but fate apparently had other plans for him.

Corn felt terrible about it, to an extent... but he was secretly glad that it wasn't his former gang members that had done the deed.

He was also glad that there wasn't another member added to the Golden Rhinos. They were frightening enough as it was.

Both of the individuals knew where they stood; Zeph, the security guard who was given a bad rap by the renegade youths and ended up losing what he was pursuing... and Corn, the former rudie who was rising to the top of the company because he had natural talent.

Natural talent that both of them knew could not be influenced, bribed, nor bought by large sums of money. Corn's abilities lay with his passion – he did it because he loved to.

They had gotten into heated arguments before, which led to a quiet understanding from both of them – an agreement to disagree. If neither of them talked about it, there would be a wary sense of peace between the two of them.

“Early day,” Corn stated softly, throwing his hand up as a half-hearted wave to the guard, getting a look of surprise from the other.

“You? An early day?” Zeph commented, snorting into his hand. “Yeah. Okay, sure.” He nodded in acquiesce before he turned his gaze elsewhere, obviously curious but too stubborn to pursue that line of questioning.

Once Corn was out of sight, he began to run again, having already memorized where Gum's house was. His thoughts slid to his old pair of skates, and he wished that he could go blading again; it called to his soul, but he squashed the thought down, knowing it wouldn't do any good in the long run.

Skating was outlawed. No wheels were allowed on the streets except for cars – and it was surprising that even _those_ were allowed. No skateboards, no rollerskates, no bikes... _nothing_ save for _cars_.

It was pure Utopia for the Rokkaku, but he saw the people suffering. It was like people were _dying_ inside. Their creativity was stifled, reduced to basic wants and needs that allowed the body to function.

It made Corn sick.

Running up the short set of stairs to Gum's place, he banged on the door, leaning against it when he heard no answer. Shit, _shit_ , was she even home? What if something happened... what if she was in the hospital –

“Cornflower?” He turned his head sharply at the familiar name, eyes landing on that wild golden hair that fluttered in the wind, unbound by the lack of a hat.

He stopped banging on the door, stumbling down the stairs and rushing to her, hugging her tightly as she dropped her bags of groceries in surprise, blinking rapidly before hugging him back.

“You're alright.” Corn breathed, clinging tightly as he buried his face in her shoulder, voice on the brink of breaking into a sob. “You're okay, god, you're okay–”

“Of course I'm okay, Cornflower.” Gum hugged him back, still surprised and unsure of what to do, but she was glad for the sudden comfort. He continued hugging like that for a few moments, until he noticed the dropped bags of groceries and reluctantly pulled away, clearing his throat.

“Let me guess. You got bad news and assumed it was me?” Gum asked, a smile tugging at her lips, eyes teasing.

“... yeah, you could say that.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Corn reached down to pick up some bags of groceries. “Sorry. I'll help you with these.”

“That would be appreciated.” Corn turned to look at her again, gripping the bags as a faint blush crossed his face.

“... it's... good to see you again, Gum.” Letting her pass, he followed as she unlocked her door, his eyes fixated on the floor.

“You too, Flower.” Her smile lit up her entire face as she glanced to him, and it made his heart skip a beat as he felt like he was floating after her, the door closed behind both of them.

Corn had to admit to himself, he loved Gum for her attitude, as well as her looks, but her _personality_...

Her personality was the best thing about her.

He wondered, still, what an actual relationship with her would have been like, but she'd always flitted away from serious ones as fast as a hummingbird, flirting with other guys and freely breaking their hearts. A sigh escaped from his lips, and he had to admit that in retrospect... he was glad that she had never flirted with him like that, though he was damn sure that his heart wouldn't get broken if that had ever been the case. Corn figured he was too tough, and wouldn't let it get to him.

But deep down, he knew he loved her.

Seeing the empty space again, Corn frowned at the lack of _things_ that were in her actual home. “Gum... why haven't you gotten anything more?”

“One, I can't afford it. And two... I'd like to put my money into more useful things than trinkets that won't aid me when I die.” Her own gaze now slid to the floor, and she shivered, reaching up to tug the jacket tighter around her shoulders.

It was then, that Corn noticed... she still had his jacket. Had she even taken it off...?

Come to think of it... it _was_ rather cold in the apartment. Corn immediately began to look for the thermostat, setting the groceries gently on the counter before he walked over to turn it up.

“No!” Gum cried, starting forward, and then stopping herself. “N-no. Please. They charge extra for that.” Her gaze jerked to the side, anger and shame in her eyes.

“... Gum,” Corn murmured softly, eyes wide. “Why couldn't you get a better place than this?”

“It's not for lack of trying. A lot of it... has to do where the Rokkaku are. The laws are pretty strict... and they come down hard on those they know are former Rudies.” Gripping his jacket, she leaned against the wall, slouching over in a defensive manner.

“Besides,” She added, voice firm and defiant. “If things aren't replaced here, the rent stays insanely cheap. And if any thieves break in... they don't have much to steal.”

“I... I'm sorry, Gum.” And truly, Corn was. Why had she succumbed to this, though? Where was the fiery Gum that had been his co-leader, so fearless in the face of everything?

Was this one of the cards that life had dealt her?

“It's not like you can do anything about it.”

The words shot through his soul and mind, and he reached forward, placing his hands on her shoulders as he stared directly at her, eye to eye.

He _could_ do something about it.

“You should move in with me.”

“Corn–”

“It'd be like old times. I can get another bed, or you can sleep on the couch – we can figure something out–”

“I'm not going to put you out like that–”

“It'd be like old times, Gum. I wouldn't have to worry about you anymore.”

That thought, said out loud, put a stop to her words, and she stared up at him with a surprised expression. Corn seemed to realize what he'd said, lifting his hands and taking a step back. Shit, he'd gone too far, hadn't he –

“E-er. What I meant was, that we're partners, and....” He didn't know _what_ to say, but he felt like he was digging the hole deeper. His entire face felt heated now, and he closed his mouth, turning back to the kitchen to put the groceries away.

“... never mind.” Corn finally stated, dismissing the thought. How stupid was he? Things weren't the way they used to be, and no amount of reminiscing would bring back the times they used to have.

“You're not the leader, Corn.” Gum stated softly, her face sad. “You don't have to play the part anymore. It's gone. It's not coming back.”

It hurt, hearing those words... but he knew it was true. Gum, always the optimistic one... was always a realist.

“I don't know about the others, but I'm just trying to survive. I have been for years. It's... not easy, but it's all we've got.”

“That, and memories,” Corn added, tossing away the garbage bags once he'd filled the pantries, realizing that there actually wasn't that many groceries to put away.

He made a mental note to buy her more, when he had the chance.

Taking off his backpack, he unzipped it and opened it to show her the old skates that lay inside – yellow with blue stripes, well worn, and well loved.

“I didn't have the heart to throw them away, but I never was a risk taker. Not like Beat, or Yoyo.” He'd always relied on strategy, and he winced when he saw her fingers digging into her sides at the mere mention of their names. Corn never did like making Gum uncomfortable.

“I used to chance it, but lately...” Reaching up, Gum's fingers slid around the collar of her turtleneck, and she pulled it down to reveal her neck and shoulder, showing the bruises that lie there.

It was almost an entire hand print.

Corn's silence spoke volumes.

“It was the machines,” Gum stated, closing her eyes. “You can't fight against them. Once they lock onto you...”

“They aren't supposed to be used for that,” He replied, a quiet anger settling into his face. He was outraged – these machines he built to _help_ people were instead _hurting_ them.

“Have you ever known the Rokkaku to use anything for the exact purpose it was made?” A slight smile tugged at the corner of Gum's lips in her attempt to make a lighthearted joke, but it didn't meet her eyes.

“I'm sorry.” Corn stated again, rubbing the back of his neck. Gum stepped forward, reaching into the pocket of the jacket and leaning up on her tiptoes, sliding his hat over his head and tugging down the sides.

“This is a dumb hat,” She stated, changing the subject. Corn blinked, pouting.

“I _like_ this hat.”

“That's why it's so dumb.”

“... you're incorrigible.”

“So are you.” Gum's smile met her eyes this time, and she reached up to press her hand gently against his cheek. “Whatever the reason, you'll find it. You always find out the answer, one way or another.”

Neither of them were perfect, but Corn found himself leaning into that small gesture, his thoughts on the past. She'd been so utterly perfect the first time they'd met – in looks, anyway. Corn had been such a klutz on his skates when he'd first started out, and it was her laughter and patience that taught him how to actually do it right.

Perfection never lasted, but Corn didn't want perfection – it was the imperfections that made someone _human_. It was the imperfections that made them _unique_.

And despite their various arguments over stupid things... they were still there for each other, despite the years of being apart.

“I'll keep in touch, okay?” Corn promised, lifting his hand and placing it on the back of Gum's, smiling in return.

“You'd better, Cornflower. You can't keep a girl waiting forever.” Sticking out her tongue, she laughed and pulled away, starting to push him out the door. “You have your hat back, but I'm keeping your coat.”

“H-hey, that's not fair–”

“Nothing in life is, blondie.” Blowing a kiss to him, she shut the door in his face, locking it.

Corn huffed, lifting his hand to knock and refuse to leave, when he jumped at a sudden noise coming from his front pocket.

His phone was buzzing.

Pulling it out to stare at it, he realized that it was a broadcast sent out by the Rokkaku.

Sucking in a breath, he turned and pounded on the door, nearly dropping his phone in the process.

“It took you long enough–” Gum began when she opened the door, stopping when she saw the exasperated look on Corn's face, her gaze sliding from him to the phone he was holding onto.

On the screen was a “Wanted” bulletin... with both Beat and Yoyo's faces plastered on the front, broadcasted out to anyone and everyone who had a bit of technology on them.

It promised that whoever brought the renegades in for the Rokkaku... gained _absolute freedom_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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